


The Temptation of Ryan Ross

by sadkittiehours



Series: Brendon the Cat That Turned Human verse [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, brendon is a cat turned human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 02:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadkittiehours/pseuds/sadkittiehours
Summary: Ryan wakes up and there's a small black cat on his front porch.He's not exactly sure how it got there — although, on four feet seems like a really good answer — or why it waits for him to come out and fetch the paper before yowling at him pitifully, rubbing against his leg and not stopping until Ryan picks him up and brings him back inside.Spencer told him he needed to get a pet, so maybe it'd be a good idea, to keep the cat.Besides, it's really cute, and has really big brown eyes. How can Ryan say no to those?
Relationships: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Series: Brendon the Cat That Turned Human verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213340





	The Temptation of Ryan Ross

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was taken off the [ Big God Damn Masterlist](https://fobfics.tumblr.com/post/34177428707/okubyokitsunes-big-goddamn-masterlistpdf/) you can use that link to download the pdf of almost 500 pages of bandom fic.

Ryan wakes up and there's a small black cat on his front porch. 

He's not exactly sure how it got there — although, on four feet seems like a really good answer — or why it waits for him to come out and fetch the paper before yowling at him pitifully, rubbing against his leg and not stopping until Ryan picks him up and brings him back inside. 

Spencer told him he needed to get a pet, so maybe it'd be a good idea, to keep the cat.

Besides, it's really cute, and has really big brown eyes. How can Ryan say no to those?

\---

"I said to get a fish or a cactus, Ryan. Not a cat. You're not responsible enough to own and take care of a cat. It'll be dead within the week, Ryan. I can't let you keep him. Maybe Jon will take him..." Spencer taps a finger against his chin and doesn't look at the black cat curled contentedly in Ryan's arms, purring as his head rubs against the bottom of Ryan's chin.

"I'm responsible enough to take care of Oscar, fuck you, Jesus." Ryan strokes Oscar's back and only winces a little when the cat's claws dig into his shoulder. 

Spencer snorts. "Ryan, you've forgotten to pay your electric bill once, your water at least three times, and your cell's been shut off more times than I can count. Responsibility isn't in your vocabulary. And, also, Oscar?" 

"Yes, Oscar. Short for Oscar Wilde. Shut up, it's an awesome name." Ryan ignores Spencer rolling his eyes. 

"Okay, whatever. But Jon's coming over in a few days to make sure you haven't killed it." Spencer flicks open his cell and types out a quick text. 

Ryan doesn't let Spencer get to him. The cat is sort of nice to have around, and Ryan hasn't done anything bad to him, yet. So Spencer can just shove it. "I'm leaving." So he does.

\---

Oscar Wilde is a good cat to have. He doesn't really do much other than demand Ryan permanently free up his lap so he can sleep on it. Ryan is happy enough to do that for him. But after a few days of just sitting around the house, Ryan knows he'll have to leave. He's got to go to the University to teach his classes and grade some work, or something. And besides, they totally sent him home when he tried to bring Oscar with him on Friday. He had the damn leash on, so it wasn't like Oscar was going anywhere, but apparently the University has a "no cat" policy or something. He doesn't fucking know. Feline fascists. 

"Okay, Oscar," he finally says, looking over at his cat. Oscar doesn't even open one eye. "We have to get out of here. I've got places to go, and I need to find a sitter for you for when I have to go to work again." He scrunches up his face at the thought. "Where's the cat leash?" 

Oscar puts up with Ryan putting the harness and clip-on leash on him. He's one of the most mild mannered cats Ryan's ever met, and Ryan's met Jon's cat Dylan. Oscar didn't even mind when Ryan had to figure out whether he was a boy cat or a girl cat. 

"Let's go, Oscar." 

\---

Mikey and Alicia Way's house is… interesting, to say the least. There are porcelain unicorn figurines in and amongst the comic book memorabilia, and the custom artwork from Gerard is sort of creepy, but Ryan doesn't mind. Bunny and Oscar circle each other for a few wary seconds, before Oscar flops on his back and lets Bunny lick his stomach. Ryan thinks maybe he should reassess his 'boy cat' assumption. 

"So, I was wondering if you'd mind knitting Oscar some sweaters, like you do Bunny? Winter here gets pretty chilly, and he's a shorthair, so I don't want him to get cold when we're out and about." Ryan looks between Bunny dragging Oscar around by the scruff of his neck, and Alicia petting Mikey on the couch opposite him. Both images are sort of disturbing. 

Mikey nods, flapping a hand at the basket full of yarn and knitting needles. "Yeah, sure. Just give me a colour scheme, and I'll get right on that as soon as I finish Bunny's hoodie." 

They sit in silence for a few more seconds until Bunny starts to growl and nose around areas she really shouldn't be nosing at. Ryan leans down and scoops Oscar up, cradling him in his arms. 

"We have to go now." Oscar flops in his arms, dead weight, and Ryan smiles at the Ways. Or, well, some of them. Whatever. 

"Maybe, when he's a little older, you can bring Oscar back over, and we can get ourselves a fresh batch of kittens!" Alicia crows happily, clapping her hands.

Ryan looks down at the Oscar in his arms, then down at Bunny, who almost looks like she's leering. Ryan honestly didn't know a cat could do that. "Um. I'll get back to you on that one."

\---

His phone is ringing, but Ryan doesn't really want to answer it. He and Oscar are having an intense battle of chase the string. He's pretty sure he's winning, too. Whoever it is calling doesn't give up after the first try, though. They call back two more times in a row and Ryan finally leans back to grab his phone off the sofa. 

"Ross." 

Ryan looks at his phone. "Wentz." 

"Ryan! I hear you have yourself a cat, now." There's rustling from Pete's end of the line but Ryan's used to him behaving like a five-year-old when he's doing anything. He can't sit still for even a phone call. "Maybe you should bring him over! He and Hemingway can be best friends! Seeing as how Pumpkin Dumplings doesn't seem to—Pumpkin Dumplings! No! Don't pee on the tile!" 

The line disconnects and Ryan looks back at Oscar. "Aren't you glad I'm not a crappy owner?" Oscar yawns at him and rolls onto his back. Ryan's pretty sure he's got a gay cat. "Let's go meet Pete, hm?"

\---

Pete's house smells overwhelmingly of pee, most days. Ryan isn't really sure why Pete keeps that cat—he's grumpy and hisses at Ryan and fucking pees everywhere. Oscar a great cat. He only pees in the litter box. 

Or, well. He only pees in the litter box, now. How was Ryan supposed to know cats didn't do newspaper? He's only ever taken care of a dog before, and it totally piddled on the newspaper. Oscar didn't do anything other than claw it up, then pee in the den. Jon gave them the litter box when he came to check up on them. Jon is sort of a lifesaver. 

The cat, Pumpkin Dumplings, is squat and orange and has a sort of grumpy face. It looks a little smashed, if Ryan is honest. A little overweight, too, because Pete tends to overfeed his pets. Pumpkin Dumplings sniffs Oscar once before going over to the bookcase and hopping onto an emptyish shelf. Pete looks on, proud. 

Hemingway stares at Oscar but does nothing more than flop down and start to snort because of his breathing problems. Oscar seems pretty taken with Hemingway, though, and climbs onto his back to take a nap. 

"Seriously, Pete, your house reeks. You need to get rid of that horror of a mammal." Ryan quickly toes his shoes back on when he sees Pumpkin's face swivel in his direction, squinting evilly. He doesn't need cat pee in his shoes. 

Pete waves a hand and sighs happily when Pumpkin's tail swishes, annoyed. "But he's such a wonderful joy to have around the house! He keeps Hemingway company and in-line. And he totally curls up on my feet when I'm reading in bed at night. I could never get rid of him. He's my Pumpkin Dumplings!" Pumpkin yowls loudly, startling Hemingway awake and sending Oscar flying onto the floor.

Ryan sighs and pats his lap, smiling softly when Oscar jumps on and curls up, purring in a content little ball. Ryan pets between Oscar's ears, turning his attention back to Pete. "So, you'll look after him while I'm at school? I mean, Hemingway seems to tolerate him. And I'm sure you're happy ball of fur over there won't pay any attention to him." 

Pumpkin lets out a low noise at Ryan, but doesn't jump off the shelf to attack him like Ryan expects. Pete nods, reaching out a foot to rub Hemingway's stomach. "Yeah, sure, that's fine. I'm sure we'll have lots of adventures together!" 

A sharp stench hits Ryan's nose and he looks over at Pumpkin, who's hopping down off the bookshelf. There's a puddle of yellow where he was lying. Ryan gags a little and stands up, Oscar secure in his arms. "We, uh. We gotta go. Bye, Pete." 

Ryan leaves Pete, yowling about pee on his first edition copy of Moby Dick. 

\---

When Ryan gets home from school on Tuesday, he finds Pete already there, talking to his sort of creepy shut-in next door neighbor, Victoria. She's a cat lady already, even though she's still in her early twenties. She's got three tomcats and a boy kitten—as she happily told Ryan the first day he moved in and she came over to welcome him—but she finds it hard to find someone to date, because no one ever loves her cats as much as she does. She's something else, in Ryan's opinion. 

They're both chatting on the porch, while all of her cats—Michelangelo, Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael, because his neighbor is also sort of a giant nerd—and Oscar play around them. Well, Raphael and Leonardo are playing together, while Michelangelo has Oscar pinned to the ground, grooming him. Oscar doesn't seem to mind. Ryan sort of does, but that's beside the point.

"Ryan! Ryan, I was just chatting with your delightful neighbor Victoria! She was just telling me about her cats, and how tiny Donatello is adjusting grandly to the kept life. She might have some tips on how to get Pumpkin Dumplings to stop peeing everywhere!" He grins happily and Victoria smiles, blowing a puff of smoke from the side of her mouth.

"Your kitten is wonderful, Ryan. Michelangelo has taken quite the liking to him." She gestures at their cats with her lit cigarette. 

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Hey Oscar, c'mon," Ryan says, clicking his tongue to get the cat's attention. Oscar glances at him, sort of, and meows pathetically. "Could you, um, move your cat, Miss Asher?" he asks, keeping from toeing Michelangelo away from his cat. 

Victoria clicks her tongue and scuffs her heel against the porch. All of her cats sit up and crowd around her, yowling loudly. Ryan bends down to gather Oscar to his chest. "It was nice talking to you, Peter," Victoria croons, rubbing her fingers under the chins of her cats. "You as well, Ryan." 

Ryan nods then grimaces at Pete, and goes back to his house. 

\---

When Spencer and Jon come over to Ryan's house, Spencer states, pretty clearly, that he holds no fondness for Oscar. 

"I like dogs, Ryan. Why do you think they're all I've ever owned?" he asks, shooing Oscar away from both him and the couch. Ryan frowns at him. 

Jon bends down to scoop Oscar up and rub his nose in Oscar's tummy. Oscar purrs happily, claws extending and retracting in Jon's button down. Ryan can't help the little smile he gets at the sight. Jon and cats are possibly the cutest combination on the planet, and Ryan can appreciate it. 

When Jon flops down onto the couch between Spencer and Ryan, Oscar is still in his lap, belly up, purring in what Ryan thinks is delight. If purrs equate to happiness, then it definitely is delight. Ryan leans against Jon so he can pet Oscar as well. Spencer huffs at both of them, arms across his chest.

\---

The person at his front door, when Ryan opens it, is wearing pink short-shorts, a sombrero, a generous amount of tattoos and nothing else. Ryan stares at the man for a few seconds, face blank. 

"Can I…help you?" he asks, sort of frightened as to find out what this man could possibly want. Oscar meows loudly and winds his way between Ryan's legs. 

The man grins and looks down at Oscar. "Hi, my name is the Butcher. I'm here to talk to your cat. I'm friends with one of your friends? Pete Wentz?" 

Ryan looks down at his cat, then back up at the man. "You…are here to talk to my cat. No, wait, you're a friend of Pete's, so. Yeah, I can see that. Would you like to come in? Have something to drink?" 

The Butcher grins and makes noises at Oscar that make Oscar tilt his head at him, blinking. Ryan goes back into the house as Butcher squats down and starts to coo at his cat. He's pretty sure he'll need some cold tea. And possibly some brandy. Butcher looks like the sort of person who would enjoy a stiff cup of brandy tea. 

When he gets back to the porch, Butcher is on his back, Oscar hanging in the air above him, batting his paws at Butcher's nose. It's actually pretty adorable, and Ryan hates to interrupt. "Well, here's a drink, if you'd like." 

Setting Oscar on his stomach, Butcher reaches out for the brandy tea. He smacks his lips after the first gulp. "Ahhh that hits the spot. Would you happen to have a couch I could crash on for the night?" 

Taking a sip of his tea, Ryan nods. "Yeah, sure. Just let me set it up." If Butcher steals anything, Ryan can just kick Pete until he either gets it back, or replaces it. Wentz is full of money, somehow or other. Ryan's not terribly worried. 

\---

Butcher doesn't leave Ryan's house until three days later. He spends the second day next door, communing with a circle of cats around him, Oscar on his lap in the middle. The last day, he walks around the house with Oscar draped over his shoulder in a boneless line. Ryan hasn't found anything missing yet, so he doesn't mind Butcher being around, and he might even be a little sad to see him go. 

"Don't worry, Ryan. I'll be back soon," Butcher says, grinning. He deposits Oscar into Ryan's waiting arms with a soft smile. "He's really happy here, Ryan. You're a really good owner. So, I'll see you soon!" He waves and walks out the door, almost as naked as he was coming in.

"That is one fucking weird guy," Ryan tells Oscar, patting his head absently. Oscar yowls at him. 

\---

Ryan comes home from the University on a Wednesday and has an epiphany. Oscar is lying on Ryan's bed, taking up even more space than seems likely for a cat that small. Ryan sits down on the edge of the bed and pets Oscar's soft stomach with steady strokes.

"I'm really lonely, Oscar. I guess I didn't notice it until I realized the only person I talk to is you." Ryan scrubs both hands through his hair, then fixes it and says, "Not that it matters or anything. Whatever."

Oscar rolls over onto his stomach and buries his nose under his paws. Ryan strokes down his back once before getting up and going to make dinner.

\---

There's a naked boy on his bed when Ryan comes home almost a week later. He's playing with a piece of string that belongs to Oscar, and is sitting in Oscar's usual spot. The first thing he says when he sees the naked boy is, "Where the hell is my cat." Then, "Who the hell are you and where are your clothes?"

The first thing he thinks, of course, is that the naked boy has a stupid hair cut, but nice eyes, and a great mouth. And a not-so-bad body. But the more important matter at hand is where the hell Oscar is. 

Whoever the naked guy on the bed is, smiles. "I'm Oscar!" His smile is almost blinding. "Hi!" 

Ryan stares at the naked guy blankly, but he only continues to smile. "Where the hell is Spencer?" he asks, looking around. Spencer is better than the police. He can solve almost anything. 

"You were really lonely, Ryan, so I wished as hard as I could, and now I'm human! So you don't have to be lonely again!" naked guy chirps. 

Ryan faints.

\---

When Ryan wakes up again, the naked guy claiming to be Oscar and Spencer are hovering over him. Naked guy actually looks worried. 

"I called Spencer on your phone. Using my fingers! My human fingers! It took a while, but I finally figured out how." He turns to Spencer. "I figured people are only supposed to sleep on the bed, not in the middle of the floor, so I should call you." 

Spencer has his you better explain this right the fuck now face on. Ryan feels dizzy again. "Who the fuck is this, Ryan," Spencer asks, lips thin. "Also, what the hell, dude. You fainted. How pussy is that?" Naked guy brightens and sits up straight.

"I'm Oscar, remember? You named me. It's a really good name, Ryan. I really like it. I mean, it's not my real name, or anything, but it's totally a good second name! Phil and I bonded over it, even." Naked guy's smile is possibly the brightest thing Ryan's ever seen, other than Spencer's. Because Spencer's smile can light up the night sky. He means that.

"Bullshit. Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck is my cat?" Ryan sits up, pushing the naked guy away from him. Spencer refuses to budge.

Naked guy cocks his head to the side. "I am your cat? Um, you took me in about two and a half months ago? Named me Oscar?"

Ryan rubs his head, feeling an ache start to settle in. He doesn't think it's going to be going away anytime soon. "What the fuck are you talking about? Seriously, Spencer, where is my cat? Did you set this up?" 

"Are you serious?" Spencer asks, face blank. "Are you serious with this shit, Ryan? Did I set this up? I don't even know this guy. I don't even like your fucking cat. What the hell."

They both stare at the naked boy. "Um. Hi, I'm Brendon. Nice to finally get to meet you? I'm very happy to be able to."

"You're not a cat," Ryan states obviously. 

The boy shakes his head. "No, I was. But I have some stuff left over? See?" He opens his mouth to show off enlarged eye teeth. "I've also got these," he garbles, holding out one hand and flexing, claw-like nails that extend and retract. 

"What the actual fuck?" Spencer asks, moving away from Brendon and his claw-things. "Jesus lord, Ryan. You always find the most spectacular people, don't you? I don't. How do you even get your nails to do that? Are those caps on your teeth?" 

Brendon looks baffled, glancing between Ryan and Spencer. "I…I don't know? They've always done that? All my life. Is that bad? I'm not sure if I can make them stop." He looks down at his hand, a panicked expression flashing across his face. "And my teeth have always been this way. What's a cap?" He looks over at Spencer. 

"Enough, it doesn't matter. Stay right here. Spencer, can we talk in the hallway, please? Right the fuck now?" Ryan smiles. 

\---

"Okay, he's either crazy, or he's really the cat," Spencer says, deadpan, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm leaning towards crazy, though. Is he one of Pete's friends? All of his friends tend to err towards insanity. I don't count, of course, because I'm not really one of his friends. You might not be, either, but I'm still trying to figure it out." 

Ryan crosses his arms as well and looks down at the floor. "Well. I think he's the cat. I mean, I know you probably don't believe it, but last week, I told Oscar that I was lonely. Brendon said he wished as hard as he could to be human so I wouldn't have to be lonely anymore. How would he have known that, Spence?" 

Spencer doesn't really look impressed, but the downturn of the corners of his mouth tells Ryan he's unhappy about Ryan's revelation. "I don't know, Ryan. Maybe he was stalking you or something. I mean, he did show up naked in your house." 

A small noise from Ryan's room makes them go back in. Brendon is sitting on the floor, looking behind him. He makes a sad sound and turns to them. "My tail…It's gone…I don't. What am I supposed to do without my tail? I tried to walk and I fell." He looks up at Ryan and holds his hands up. "Help me, please?" 

He has such a trusting look on his face that Ryan can't stop himself from reaching down to pull Brendon up. Brendon stumbles into Ryan and latches on, arms wrapped around Ryan's neck. He presses his nose into Ryan's throat, inhaling deeply. "You smell differently than before. Before it was paper and ink and dust. Now it's skin and vanilla and human. I like it." He sniffs again. 

"Spencer—" Ryan waves his hands around, looking desperately at Spencer. Brendon doesn't move, though, and Ryan finally rests his hands on his back. He tries not to think about the fact that he's naked. Spencer rolls his eyes. 

"I'm him. He's me. You have to believe me." His lips move against Ryan's neck and he presses closer. 

It makes Ryan bite his lip, inhale shakily. "Okay, okay. Calm down. It's okay." He reaches one hand up to pet the back of Brendon's head. Brendon lets out a rumbling noise and Ryan can feel the vibrations from his back. 

"Okay. This is too much excitement for me. I'm outta here," Spencer says, waving his hand at them. "I'll call you later, Ryan." 

"Bye, Spence," Ryan replies, not waving back. He's too busy petting Brendon. 

Brendon pulls back to smile at Spencer. "Bye, Spencer! I'm glad I got to meet you! You're more amazing than I thought you were." He pushes his face back into Ryan's neck and purrs again. 

\---

Brendon is still naked when Ryan gets home from work. "Brendon, I set out clothing for you to change into before I left. Why aren't you in them?" he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's not frustrated, because it's not like Brendon is a hardship to look at. But it's not exactly proper for him to go around the house naked all day. 

"Huh?" Brendon looks down at himself, then back up at Ryan with a confused smile. "It's okay to not wear clothes inside. You just have to wear them when you go outside!" His grin widens. "You've been naked, inside. Why can't I?" 

Sighing, Ryan shakes his head. "No, Brendon. You're only naked when you're bathing or…Or some other times. Not all the time," he explains patiently. 

The only response Brendon gives him is to wrinkle his nose and wander to the guest room Ryan has given him. When he comes back out, he's wearing an overly large button-down that barely covers any of the necessary parts, but at least it's something. Ryan's grateful for that much. 

"Better?" he asks, looking at the sleeves that go past his hands. Ryan isn't even sure where that shirt came from. He sighs. 

"Better." 

\---

"Ryan. Ryan, wake up, please." Brendon sounds sort of frantic, mostly worried and Ryan flails a little bit. It's hard for Ryan to wake up on a good day, but in the middle of the night, when he has to get up for work in the morning, it's even worse. "Ryan, please." 

He snorts but opens his eyes. Brendon is leaning over him, gnawing on his lower lip. His claws are ripping holes in the borrowed night shirt he's wearing. Ryan frowns. "Wha? What's going on, Brendon?" Ryan asks, voice sleep gritty. 

Brendon looks away and smooths a hand across the bed sheets. "Ryan, I…Can I sleep in here? Please? I can't sleep alone. I'm scared. I've never slept alone before. It's dark and cold." His voice breaks. 

"Shit. Okay, get in," he mumbles, lifting up the covers. Brendon dives into the bed, curling up on his side and clutching onto Ryan's shirt. Ryan wraps his arms around him, letting Brendon press himself closer. If Ryan's being honest, it was sort of cold in the bed without Oscar's tiny heat factory there. 

"Thank you, Ryan," Brendon whispers, rubbing his nose against Ryan's neck. He feels a lick and he supposes it's another sign of gratitude. 

"Welcome. Sleep, now. Good night." Ryan pulls Brendon closer to him and shuts his eyes. 

\---

The doorbell rings while Ryan is feeding Brendon cereal. Well, mostly he's trying to make him eat the cereal while Brendon is only interested in the milk. Ryan sets the spoon down with a sigh and ruffles Brendon's hair when he walks past to get to the door. 

He's not expecting the Butcher back so soon. It's only been a few weeks since his first visit. But there the Butcher is, sitting on the patio railing, grinning at Ryan. He's at least got shorts and a vneck shirt on, this time, which is an improvement, in Ryan's opinion. 

"Hey, Ryan Ross," Butcher says cheerily, giving a jaunty little finger wave. "S'good to see you again, dude." He hops off the porch rail and gives Ryan a hug that lifts him up off his feet. Ryan flails a bit and straightens his clothes when Butcher puts him back down. 

"Butcher, come on in. We're having breakfast. You should join us." He opens the door all the way and Butcher lopes in, grin firmly in place. 

They get to the kitchen at almost the same time, so Ryan gets to see the way Brendon completely lights up when Butcher walks in. "Butcher!" Brendon cries out, throwing up his arms. 

"Dude! You got big!" Butcher wraps his arms around Brendon, hugging him tight. 

Brendon makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and starts to purr. "You came back! I'm so happy you came back, Butcher. I didn't think you were going to!" He rubs his nose against Butcher's chin, purring loudly. 

Butcher turns to Ryan and his grin widens. "Your cat got big, dude," he says happily. 

"Wait," Ryan interrupts, holding up a hand. "Butcher, you…How did you know this is Oscar?" he asks, bewildered. 

"Oh, dude, I told you I had to talk to your cat. Me, Brendon and the guys next door had a powwow and we totally communed on a deeper level." 

Ryan sits down in his seat heavily, staring at Brendon. "Fuck. You really are…?" He shakes his head. 

"I told you so," Brendon says easily, like it's not some form of miracle that he's here. 

"Stranger things have happened," Butcher says, shrugging. "Don't knock it. At least you know there's something—someone—in this world that cares about you enough to wish their whole existence away, for you. That's impressive." He chucks Brendon under the chin. 

Smiling halfway, Brendon looks at Ryan. "He's right," he says softly. 

"Oh," Ryan says stupidly. He didn't know—he just thought. Cats weren't really known for being loyally affectionate. Brendon was more free than most, but still. Ryan looks down at his cereal before getting up. "I have to go get ready for work, now. Butcher, you're welcome to help yourself to anything to eat. I'll be back before dinner." When he passes him, Ryan touches the back of Brendon's neck. "See you later." 

"Bye, Ryan!" Brendon chirps. Butcher waves, smiling.

\---

The Butcher is gone when Ryan finally gets back. He's a little late—a problem with a student who demands to go over her paper with him so she can know why she'd gotten a D—but he's not expecting Brendon to be alone when he finds him napping in the bay window seat. 

"Where's Butcher?" he asks after Brendon gets done stretching. He's learned that Brendon either can't or won't hear anything while he's stretching. 

Brendon holds his arms out and Ryan climbs onto the seat, letting Brendon wrap himself around him. As a human, Brendon is just as clingy as when he was a cat. "Mmm, he left a few hours ago. Said he had places to be, and that I should tell you thank you for letting him hang out." Brendon buts his head against Ryan's chin, purring happily. He's always the most clingy just after he wakes up from a nap. 

Ryan sighs. "Damn. Pete told me to bring him over for dinner with us today." 

"Oh? We're going to Pete's?" Brendon asks, sitting up. 

"Yup." 

Brendon claps, looking delighted. "I can see Phil and Patrick, then! I haven't gotten to see them since I became human!" He smiles so wide his eyes close and it's sort of adorable. Ryan blinks, about to ask who Phil and Patrick are but Brendon keeps going on. "Do I have to get changed? Is this okay for Pete's house? I haven't gone anywhere but here, and you always dress differently when you leave the house," Brendon says, looking down at himself. He's got a tight lavender hoodie on that looks like something Spencer's sisters would wear. His jeans are also painfully tight, and Ryan thinks it's a good thing Brendon didn't keep a tail. 

"Where'd you get those?" he asks, because there's no way he found it in Ryan's closet. He has actual taste. 

"Oh, um. I'm not supposed to tell you?" Brendon asks, looking back up at Ryan with wide eyes. "Spencer didn't want you to know he was coming over while you were out to give me clothes."

Ryan makes a face and pulls out his cell, already dialing Spencer. 

"Hello?" Spencer asks, voice gravelly. 

"Dude, you've been giving him clothes?" Ryan hopes he woke him up. 

"…God dammit. I told him not to tell you," Spencer grumbles, making Ryan roll his eyes.

"He was a cat up until a week ago. I'm pretty sure he doesn't understand the concept of 'secrets' yet." He ignores Spencer's grumbling and Brendon's concerned gaze and keeps going. "You know he's never going to dress properly, now. He's going to want to dress like a girl. Why couldn't you have let me handle it?" 

"Like hell I'm gonna let you dress him. You're lucky I let you dress yourself, Ryan Ross," Spencer says with an irritated huff. "He doesn't need to be picking up your bad habits." 

Ryan scoffs. "Bad habits, psh. Like you know class when you see it, Smith." He fingers his paisley scarf. Ryan is the epitome of style. Spencer has no idea what he's talking about. 

There's a loud snort from Spencer's end of the line. He doesn't even have the decency to pretend he's coughing, either. How rude. "Okay, Ryan. I'm gonna go. I'm afraid your insanity is catching. Bye." He hangs up before Ryan can protest. 

He pockets his phone, frowning. "Bitch." 

"Is this not good?" Brendon asks, picking at his hoodie. 

"No, it's fine. As long as you like it, it's fine." Ryan doesn't like it, but then again, Spencer put up with his cowboy boots and printed vests, so he can deal with girl clothes. Especially when Brendon beams at him like that. "If you're ready, we can go. Pete's expecting us." 

Brendon nods. "Yeah, okay, I'm ready." 

\---

Pete asks, "Where's Oscar?" as soon as Brendon crows, "Phil! Patrick! I'm big!" 

"Wait, what?" Pete asks, bewildered as Brendon goes over to Pumpkin Dumplings and scoops him up for a hug. They watch in amazement as Pumpkin Dumplings just lets out a rusty purr when Brendon nuzzles his head. "Who the fuck is that?" Pete asks, turning to Ryan, because he can't look at Brendon and his cat without getting irrationally jealous, apparently.

"Um," Ryan starts, scratching his head as Brendon starts to babble at Pumpkin Dumplings. "That would be Oscar." 

Brendon walks over to Pete and Ryan, Pumpkin Dumplings still cradled safely in his arms. He sits down and lets Hemingway lick his face, since he can't actually pick him up, too. Pumpkin Dumpling's smashed face actually looks pretty serene, even if his purr sounds like a broken motor. 

"Patrick says to tell you if you call him Pumpkin Dumplings one more time, he's going to pee all over your record collection. And he won't even feel bad about it, either.” Brendon beams as he looks up at Pete. "Hi, Pete. I'm human, now." 

Pete is silent for a few seconds, staring down at Brendon, and Ryan's a little worried about how he's going to react. "Patrick?" Pete finally asks, squatting down so he's level with Brendon and the other animals. 

"Mmhm," Brendon nods, holding Pumpkin Dumplings up a bit for Pete to see. "His name is Patrick, and he hates Pumpkin Dumplings. That's why he pees everywhere. He thought maybe you'd learn, but you never did." Hemingway nudges Brendon's knee with his nose. "Oh, and Phil says he doesn't mind Hemingway, so you can call him that, if you want. He thinks it sounds more distinguished than Phil, anyways." 

"You're Oscar?" Pete asks, looking at Brendon again. He whispers, "Holy shit," after Brendon nods. 

"He actually goes by Brendon, now," Ryan interrupts, sitting on the couch, because he doesn't trust that Pumpkin—Patrick hasn't peed all over the floor recently. Pete nods absently. 

"Well, fuck," Pete says, reaching out to pet Patrick's head. Patrick looks at him wearily but allows the contact and Brendon smiles again, giggling at something only he knows. Patrick looks back at him and yowls, face as closed as it usually is. Ryan thinks it's sort of weird how he can interpret cat's expressions, now. "So, wait. Can you become human?" he asks Patrick, taking the cat from Brendon's arms. Hemingway takes the opportunity to crawl halfway into Brendon's lap, demanding affection that Brendon gives easily. 

Patrick swishes his tail from side to side, looking agitated to be hanging in the air. "Um," Brendon starts, looking up at them. "You should probably not do that, because he said he's gonna claw your face up if you don't put him down this instant." 

Quickly, Pete puts Patrick back down on the ground, patting his back and making soothing noises. Ryan doesn't doubt that Pete would have gotten peed on had he not done so. "You can talk to them?" Pete asks Brendon, still stroking Patrick's back. 

"Yup," Brendon says, nodding. "I mean, I can't forget my natural language, just because I'm not a cat anymore. That'd be like you going somewhere they don't speak English, then you forgetting English after you learn the other language." His metaphor isn't perfect, but Ryan gets it. 

Pete nods back, looking contemplative. "Well. Dinner should be here in a few minutes, so I guess I can get the dining room set up and shit." He gets up, giving one last longing look at Patrick before he goes into the kitchen.

"You should be nicer to him," Brendon admonishes, wagging a finger at Patrick. Patrick turns his back on Brendon and bends down to lick himself. Brendon flushes slightly and averts his eyes. "Shut up, I do not. You're vulgar." 

Ryan figures he's going to have to get used to only hearing half the conversation, from now on. 

\---

Pete texts Ryan every day asking him how he got Brendon to be a real boy, and if he thinks he can do it to Patrick. Ryan rolls his eyes and ignores the texts, because he wasn't the one who made Brendon change. Brendon was the one who did that. 

Ryan doesn't mind leaving Brendon to go to work, now, because he can just drop him off at Pete's so he can talk to Patrick and Hemingway and translate for Pete. Everything is pretty much the same as it was before Brendon changed.

Sometimes, he comes home and Brendon won't look at him for a while, and flushes whenever he does look, which is weird, but Brendon won't talk about it. He puts it out of his mind, because it doesn't really matter why Brendon's being weird. Ryan figures he can just blame Pete.

The phone rings and Ryan picks it up because it's not Pete. "Hello?" 

"Hey. Ryan? It's Mikey. I got done with Oscar's sweater. Wanna bring him over so we can see if it fits?" Mikey asks, sounding like he doesn't care one way or the other. Ryan wonders how Mikey can have less emotion than Ryan does, sometimes.

He looks over at Brendon, who's on the couch, as he says, battling string. "Um. Yeah, okay. We'll be there in a few."

Brendon perks up as soon as Ryan ends the call, string somehow in his hair and around his fingers and in his mouth. "Where're we goin'?" he asks around the string.

"Over to Mikey and Alicia's, apparently," Ryan says, going over to Brendon to help untangle him. 

"Is Bunny going to be there?" he asks quietly, letting Ryan take the string away from him without moving a muscle. 

"Probably." Ryan shrugs. "Why?" 

"No reason," Brendon says fake casually, looking shifty. 

"Okay…Let's go, then." Ryan pulls Brendon up, and Brendon doesn't let go of his hand. Ryan doesn't really mind. 

\---

When Mikey opens the door, he doesn't even look twice at Brendon before letting them in. They settle down on the couch, across from Mikey and Alicia again. There's an awkward silence for a few seconds before Alicia looks at Brendon and cocks an eyebrow. 

"So. You're new. I thought Ryan was bringing his cat, not his boy." If Ryan isn't mistaken, he's pretty sure she's purring at Brendon. "What's your name, little boy?" she asks. Ryan always knew there was a reason he didn't hang out with Mikey as much after he got married. His wife was fucking scary. 

"Um. Brendon? My name's Brendon," Brendon mumbles, looking down at his lap. He flinches when he realizes Bunny is sitting right in front of him, tail twitching back and forth in an agitated manner. 

"Oh!" Alicia says, excitedly turning to Ryan. "You got a polite one! That's rare, Ryan. I like him." She prods Mikey in the side until he nods. 

Ryan scratches the back of his head. "Uh, thanks, I guess. See, the thing is—" 

"No! I didn't want to!" Brendon says loudly, still looking at Bunny. He pulls his legs up in a defensive position. Ryan makes a questioning noise and Brendon looks at him, eyes wide. "She says I only became human so that I could get away from her and our future kittens," he explains, pointing an accusatory finger at Bunny. Bunny makes a noise that sounds like she's hacking up a hairball. "You're a lying liar that lies," Brendon says, glaring. 

Mikey clears his throat and Ryan looks up at him, sheepish. "What's that all about?" Mikey asks, looking between Brendon and Bunny with a bored expression, as if people accuse his cat of lying all the time. Ryan wouldn't really be surprised if they did, at this point. 

"Well," Ryan starts, trying to figure out a good way to explain it without sounding insane. "This is Oscar. I'm not sure how he—" "I wished!" "—became human, but here he is. So. I guess we don't need the sweater you knitted?" Mikey looks a little disappointed, so Ryan says, "But I guess we could still keep it? In case I ever get another cat?" and Mikey perks back up. 

"That's great. I'd hate for it to go to waste. They aren't Bunny's colours." He leans over the edge of the sofa to pick up the sweater, not even flinching when Alicia pinches his ass before sitting down. He holds it out to Ryan, who takes it without really even looking at it.

"Thanks, Mikey. I—we—really appreciate it." Ryan hands the sweater to Brendon, then looks at his watch. "We have to go, though. We still have to stop at the store and then pick up some groceries," he lies easily, standing up. Brendon scrambles up after him, avoiding standing near Bunny as much as he can.

Alicia beams up at them. "Well, we're always here. Bring Brendon along with you whenever you want. He is oh so delicious, isn't he?" she asks Mikey. 

"That didn't work with Gerard and Lindsey, and I don't think it'll work with them," Mikey mumbles to her, but gives Brendon an appreciative once-over for her sake. "See you guys later.”

Ryan drags Brendon from the Way house and doesn't look back.

\---

It's finally the weekend, and Ryan doesn't have to worry about going to work and leaving Brendon alone with Pete. Well, not that he would be alone, not with Hemingway and Patrick around, too, but still. He actually enjoys spending quality time with Brendon. Even if 'quality time' usually means Ryan dangling string or shiny things in front of Brendon and watching him attack it. 

The knock at the door doesn't surprise him, because Ryan has suddenly become quite a bit more popular since he got a companion. He's actually happy to see who's at the door. 

"Jon, Spence, come in," Ryan says politely, standing aside to let them in. He even lets Spencer draw him in for a tight hug. "Oh, get off. It's not like it's been that long since you last saw me," he snips, even though he hugs Spencer back just as tightly. 

Spencer rolls his eyes extra-hard when he pulls away. "Like you're not the most co-dependent best friend I've ever had, asshole."

"Yeah, because you've totally had other best friends, before," Ryan says, poking Spencer in the chest. 

"Semantics, jackass." Spencer grins at Ryan and Ryan can't help but grin back. 

"Um, not that your display of freaky best friends-ness isn't adorable, or whatever, but isn't someone gonna introduce me to Ryan's guest?" Jon asks, ever the polite person. Ryan and Spencer both turn to him at the same time. "Fucking creepy." 

"What do you mean, introduce you? That's Brendon," Ryan says slowly. Jon continues to stare at him, and Ryan turns to Spencer, glaring. "You asshole, did you forget to tell Jon?" 

"Did I forget to tell Jon? I thought you told Jon. It's your cat, for fuck's sake," Spencer hisses. 

"Yeah, well, you're the one that's with him all the time. I thought you would have, oh, I don't know, mentioned something," Ryan says, rolling his eyes. 

Brendon turns to Jon and smiles. "Hi, Jon. Apparently no one told you that I'm Oscar and I wished to be a human so Ryan wouldn't be lonely anymore. I'm thinking of getting a little sign that says I was Oscar but I'm Brendon, now. It's nice to meet you, again," he says, holding out a hand. 

Jon blinks at him for a few seconds before shrugging. "Seems simple enough. It's nice to meet you, too, Brendon." 

Ryan's not really surprised when Brendon beams and throws himself at Jon, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly. Oscar always liked Jon the most out of anyone he met. Brendon rubs his nose against Jon's cheek, purring. Ryan notices Spencer frown a bit more as he watches. He bumps shoulders with him and quirks a brow when Spencer glares at him.

"Oh, shut up," Spencer mumbles, looking away with a tiny hint of redness to his cheeks. 

When Ryan looks back at the couch, he realizes Brendon is actually talking to Jon. 

"—and Clover and Dylan said that you got it, right on, which is pretty amazing, since you don't talk to us like Butcher does. They think you have a way with cats," Brendon explains happily, purring steadily as Jon rubs a hand up and down his back. 

"What's that?" Ryan asks, manhandling Spencer into sitting on the loveseat with him. Spencer goes along reluctantly. 

"Oh! It's just, Jon's cats told me to tell him that he got their names right when he adopted them. Which doesn't really happen very often, y'know?" Brendon asks, grinning. Ryan refrains from rolling his eyes. "We think he has a way with cats or something. Not like Butcher, but in his own way. It's pretty cool." He butts into Jon's hand when he pets Brendon's head, eyes half-mast. 

Ryan looks at Spencer out of the corner of his eye, not really surprised to see his finest bitchface. "Hm." 

"Hm, what?" Spencer snaps, turning the glare on Ryan. 

"Nothing, nothing." 

\---

"I need to go next door," Brendon says, poking Ryan in the side. 

The one downfall, in Ryan's opinion, to letting Brendon sleep in his bed is that Brendon doesn't sleep so much as nap. And when he's up, he wants Ryan up, too. His claws are fucking sharp, and Ryan's woken up more than once with sluggishly bleeding scratches. 

"Mmf, why do you need to go next door?" he grumbles, swatting away Brendon's fingers. Ryan has the day off. He wants to sleeping, damn it. 

"I have to talk to the tabby." 

Ryan finally opens his eyes and looks at Brendon. "Why do you need to talk to the tabby?" Brendon looks away, kneading the comforter with his claws as he gnaws on his lip. "Brendon, what?" he asks, slapping Brendon's hands away from the comforter. He doesn't need holes in his linens. 

"Well, um, you see, the tabby and I were supposed to have kittens? So I have to go and tell him I can't, anymore," Brendon says, not looking at Ryan. 

He sits up, turning to stare at Brendon. "What?" he asks, feeling like a broken record—which is an expression Ryan never thought he'd use on himself. 

Brendon tugs on his hair a little, finally looking at Ryan. "Well, this season was gonna be my first mating season, and the tabby next door said we could have kittens together. Our kittens would be the cutest," he says, smiling a silly little smile. 

Ryan stares blankly at Brendon for a few seconds. "Isn't the tabby next door a tom?" he finally asks. 

"Mmhm," Brendon says, nodding. "I've never seen kittens born, but I really like the ones I've lived with, before. So I want some. Gabe said our kittens would be the most beautiful kittens to ever exist." He smiles and looks down at his fingers. "But now that I'm a human, I can't have kittens with him. So I have to tell him." 

Ryan hates to disappoint him, really, but he can't let Brendon go all his life thinking he can have kittens. "Brendon…I'm not sure if there's an easy way to say this, but you wouldn't have been able to have kittens with him, anyways." 

"Huh?" Brendon asks, looking up at him with a confused expression. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean, that. Well, uh. Only girl-cats can have kittens. When a boy-cat and a girl-cat love one another very, very much, they can have kittens together." Ryan winces at his shitty explanation, glad he won't ever have to give it to a kid of his own, one day. 

When Ryan looks over at him, Brendon has a crestfallen expression on his face. "I…can't have kittens?" he asks softly. Ryan shakes his head. "…Oh. I. I'm just gonna go, for a little…" He gets off of the bed and Ryan can hear him shutting the guest door softly after himself. 

Lying back down, Ryan stares at the ceiling. He's pretty sure he's not going to get to go back to sleep.

\---

"Brendon? Brendon, you gotta come out of there. It's been two days, and you need to come out." Ryan knocks on the door to the guest room again. He actually feels sort of bad for making Brendon go into hiding for two days; he didn't know the news of not being able to have kittens would devastate him so badly. 

The door cracks open and Brendon looks out at Ryan with a red, puffy eye. "I don't wanna come out," he sniffles. 

"C'mon, you gotta. Please?" Ryan begs, pushing his fingers through the crack and wiggling them at Brendon. "I've got something for you, but you have to come out of there."

Brendon opens the door a crack more and looks at Ryan. "Something for me?" he asks softly. 

"Yes. I got it special for you on my way home from work today. Would you like to see what it is?" Ryan can be cajoling when he wants to be. 

"Okay," Brendon says, finally stepping out of the room. Ryan grabs his hand and draws him down the hallway to the living room. There's a small stuffed bear on the couch, and Brendon picks it up. "What is it?" 

Ryan feels under the bear and flicks on the switch, and a soft sound emits from the bear. Brendon puts the bear to his ear and Ryan says, "It's a heartbeat bear. I just thought, if you don't like it, I can take it back, but—" 

"Thank you," Brendon says, throwing his arms around Ryan. The bear is pressed between them, letting out soft thumps in time with their own. 

\---

The tabby next door's name, according to Brendon, is Gabriel. It's actually sort of close to what Victoria named him, but she's as far off as she possibly can be, with the rest of them. Gabe stares at Brendon suspiciously as soon as they step onto the porch. Brendon immediately sits down and Gabe walks around him, sniffing delicately before stopping right in front of Brendon and yowling. 

"No, I know. I'm sorry, I didn't—No, no, of course not! No, Gabe, why would I ever—? But! Ryan said that…" Brendon shrugs helplessly, listening to Gabe and nodding intently. It is, admittedly, sort of funny to watch. 

"Why hello again, Mr. Ross," Victoria says, voice drawling. Ryan turns his head to see Victoria standing at the bottom of the porch steps, two brown grocery bags in her arms, two cats twining themselves between her legs. She's sucking on a cigarette as she eyes Ryan and Brendon. 

"Oh, um, hello. I didn't know you weren't in." Ryan looks at her car pointedly as Brendon continues to nod and try to get two words in to Gabe. 

Victoria looks at her car and shrugs. "I like walking to the market. The cats enjoy the exercise as well." She bends down to put one of the bags on the ground so she can take the smoke from her mouth. "And who might this be?"she asks, gesturing to Brendon with the cigarette. 

Brendon turns away from Gabe, blushing and looking chastised. "Hello, Miss Asher!" he chirps, batting away Gabe's tale when the cat flicks him in the nose with it. "Gabe says it was impolite to ignore you, as you are the mistress of the house, and for that I apologize," he says, properly demure. Ryan wonders if that's how Brendon is with all older cats. 

"Oh?" Victoria says, breathing smoke into the air very artfully. "He says that, does he? And what would your name be, then?" 

"Brendon, Miss Asher," he says happily, smiling up at Victoria. "I was once Oscar and I'm still him, but I'm Brendon, too, and I'd rather be called that, if that's okay with you." 

Victoria nods. "Hn. I thought you were a girl," she says, throwing her cigarette onto the ground and stamping it out with her high-heeled boot. 

"A girl?" Brendon asks, making a face. Gabe yowls at him and Brendon flushes, nose scrunching unhappily. 

"Mmhm. The way they all treated you, I thought you were a girl," she gestures to the cats lounging around the deck. "And, with the way he dresses, I just thought Mr. Ross was eccentric in his naming skills." 

Ryan frowns, but nods. "Yeah, fair enough." 

"Of course." Victoria sets her other bag down, nudging the cats that nose into the bags away. She lights another cigarette and puffs on it. "Where's Donatello?" she asks Gabe. Gabe flicks his tail and yowls, which makes a tiny kitten come tumbling out from beneath the house, mewling loudly and stumbling his way to Victoria's side. 

"Gabe says Nate is right there, don't worry. He always knows where Nate is," Brendon translates, letting Ryan pull him up. Gabe hops down the porch steps, stalking to Nate and biting the scruff of his neck to lift him up and carry him back to top of the porch. He proceeds to clean Nate of the dirt from beneath the porch. 

\---

Pete calls Ryan and tells him he can't watch Brendon, because he's sick, and he doesn't know if Brendon is immune to human sickness or not, yet. Ryan calls Victoria, but no one answers the phone. Spencer and Jon both have jobs they can't miss, just because Ryan doesn't like leaving Brendon alone. Well, Jon might try to miss work for it, but Spencer would never let him. 

"I can stay here on my own," Brendon says, playing with the leftover floating bits of cereal in his bowl. They're soggy, which means he won't eat them, and Ryan thinks it's weird how he knows things like that already.

"I don't want you to have to stay here on your own, though," Ryan says, picking up his and Brendon's bowl and taking them to the sink. 

"Ryan, I can. It's not like you can stay here, or I can go with you. It'll be okay. Just go." He gets up and pushes Ryan towards the door. 

"I can't, Brendon!" Ryan shouts, laughing. 

Brendon stops and glares, crossing his arms. "Yes, you can." 

"No, no," Ryan says, reaching out to take hold of one of Brendon's hands. "I can't yet, because I'm not dressed for work. It's generally frowned upon to go to work in your pajamas," he says softly, rubbing his thumb against Brendon's wrist. "I'll let you stay here while I'm at work. But you have to pick up when I call at lunch to check in, okay?" Ryan knows he's probably being far too over-protective—Brendon isn't a toddler, and he's gotten so much better at not breaking things or himself—but he can't help it.

"Okay," Brendon says, smiling in delight. "Thank you for trusting me, Ryan," he chirps happily. 

Ryan smiles a bit. "Welcome, Brendon." 

\---

Traffic on the way home from the university is a little heavier than usual, but Ryan isn't worried. When he'd called at lunch to check up on him, Brendon seemed perfectly fine. So there's no need for Ryan to worry, or speed, because everything is okay. 

He pulls up to the house and it's not on fire. Nothing is broken from the outside and there are no police or emergency cars parked anywhere. Ryan sits in the car in the driveway for a few seconds, breathing finally. He didn't really think anything had happened, but he's not the university's best creative writing professor for nothing; Ryan can pretty much imagine any worst case-scenario in a split-second. 

Inside, the house is just as intact as Ryan left it. There is no smoke, no water stains on the floor, nothing in pieces. Ryan takes another deep breath and hangs his coat up by the door, putting his hat and keys on the little table under the coat rack. "Brendon? Where are you?” Usually, Brendon is right at the door when Ryan comes home, waiting for him to come in before pouncing and wrapping his arms around him for a hug. It doesn't mean anything, he's probably just sleeping, but Ryan goes to the bedroom more quickly than usual, anyways. "Brendon?"

There's a weird buzzing coming from the bedroom, and Brendon's laughter, which means he's okay. He was just preoccupied playing, which is why he wasn't there to greet him. Ryan needs to stop worrying so much. He opens the door, ready to greet Brendon and get his hug in return, but when he sees what Brendon's playing with, he goes bright red. 

"B-Brendon, where did you get that?" he finally manages to stammer out, trying not to look at the vibrator that's bouncing across the floor. 

Brendon bats at the vibrator, sending it under the bed, and looks up at Ryan. "Hi, Ryan! I was bored, so I went through all the boxes in your closet, and I found that! It whirrs and makes fun noises! How come you didn't tell me you had cat toys?" 

Ryan puts his face in his hands, trying not to be as embarrassed as he is. Brendon doesn't know any better. He doesn't know what a vibrator is. "Brendon…that's not. You can't play with that. It's. Jesus, Brendon, it's a sex toy, not a cat toy." Ryan looks away from Brendon, mortified. Why the hell did he even keep that thing after his last girlfriend left? 

"Oh, okay. What's sex?" Brendon asks, looking up at Ryan with a big smile. 

"You, um. That. What?" Ryan asks, completely dumbfounded. There's no way Brendon doesn't know what sex is. He was going to have kittens with Gabe! 

"Sex! What is it? Do you always have to use toys to play it? That one was fun; can I have sex, too?" Brendon asks, reaching under the bed to try to grab the vibrator. His ass is wiggling in the air and Ryan can feel himself going completely red in the face at the sight. When Brendon comes out from beneath the bed, the vibrator is turned off, but it's in his mouth and Ryan is going to die.

"Fuck, you know what?" Ryan takes out his cell and dials the one person he knows will give Brendon the proper talk, about what sex is and how to have it safely and how No Means No. 

"Hello?" 

Ryan holds the phone out to Brendon. "Here, talk to him. I know you've never met him, but he'll be able to help you." 

Brendon takes the phone and chirps, "What's sex! Can I have one?" into the mouth piece. Ryan cringes and leaves the room. He doesn't need to hear this. 

Brendon doesn't look any different, when he gets done on the phone, but Ryan feels sort of awkward. He tries desperately not to think about Brendon in that way, because it makes him feel like a pervert. Brendon is like a kid, no matter how grown-up his body is, and he doesn't understand the responsibilities of sex. Ryan would be taking advantage, if he did anything. 

It's just, well, Ryan is a healthy adult male, who happens to be attracted to other healthy adult males, sometimes, and Brendon is a very attractive healthy adult male. It's not Ryan's fault if, after the Sex Toy Incident—as he gets around to calling it in his head—Ryan starts to see Brendon in a new light. He'd never act on it, of course. Ryan knows better than that. Really. He does.

\---

Sighing, Ryan puts down his satchel and starts to loosen his tie. Teaching a bunch of pretentious kids who think they're going to be the next Steinbeck is exhausting. Mostly his arm just hurts from marking papers with his red pens, but they need to be taken down a level or two. They have to learn they're not that great. 

"Brendon? You wanna go out to eat tonight? I'm too tired to make anything," Ryan says, unwrapping his scarves to put on the coat rack. 

He doesn't hear anyone come into the room until he's being pressed into the wall by the rack. Ryan grunts, pushing back and grabbing the person's arm to push them against the wall, face first, arm bent behind their back. He's not expecting that person to be Brendon, and he's not expecting him to be naked. 

"Brendon, what the fuck?" he spits, letting go of him and turning him around. Brendon stares at him with wide eyes, pupils blown. There's a flush going down his cheeks and neck and Ryan doesn't let himself look any further. His breathing is ragged, chest heaving up and down rapidly. "Brendon?" 

His name seems to snap him out of staring and Brendon presses himself fully against Ryan, wrapping his arms around his neck and rubbing against him. "Ryan. Ryan, please, I need. I just." He licks Ryan's neck and shivers, hands tightening enough to make his claws pierce Ryan's shirt.

Ryan pushes him away, wincing when his back hits the wall. "Brendon, hey. What the fuck are you doing?" he asks. He has to keep Brendon pressed to the wall with both hands when he tries to get back at Ryan, hands clawing desperately at his shirt. 

Brendon looks at Ryan, face devastated. "Ryan," he mewls mournfully. "I need you." Brendon slips to the floor, and Ryan's hands stay on his shoulders as Brendon starts to unbuckle Ryan's pants. He fumbles because he's never dealt with a buckle, before, and Ryan grabs his hands. 

He has to stop this, Brendon clearly doesn't know what he's doing. "Brendon, stop, you can't. This isn't. I'm not," he sputters, fighting with Brendon to keep his pants done up. He doesn't have to look down to know Brendon is hard, cock straining against his stomach. He can't help it if the sight of Brendon on his knees starts to get him hard. 

"Please," Brendon begs, and Ryan is dismayed to hear tears in his voice, to see them leaking out of his eyes. "Please, Ryan, I can't, I need you. Now. It's so hot, Ryan." Brendon pushes his face into Ryan's hips, hands still held away in Ryan's. "I need you, please," he whispers and Ryan feels his weak resolve break. 

"Fuck, fuck, bedroom, now," he says, pulling Brendon up and wrapping an arm around his waist. Brendon immediately rubs his face against Ryan's neck, licking and purring almost frantically. Ryan can't help the spike of want that courses straight to his dick. 

Brendon's clothes are thrown around the room, torn in places, which Ryan doesn't get. He's never shed his clothes like that, before. Brendon isn't really giving Ryan the time to do anything; as soon as they're on the bed, Brendon starts to rip at Ryan's clothes, finally mastering the belt buckle, and working on the buttons. He makes a frustrated noise at his lack of progress, claws hindering him. He doesn't stop rubbing himself against Ryan, though, and that's going to start being a problem, soon. 

"Brendon, what the fuck is going on?" Ryan gasps, moving to unbutton his shirt before Brendon starts to tear the buttons off. Brendon lets him, and starts to pull Ryan's slacks off, rubbing his nose against every inch of skin he reveals. 

"Season," Brendon says, voice raspy. "It's my season." He sounds both out of breath and excited, getting his claws into the elastic of Ryan's waistband and pulling his boxers down. This is the quickest Ryan's ever gotten naked, before. 

"What, fuck, what does that mean?" he asks, grunting when Brendon wraps his hand around his cock and pulls, fast and too dry. Ryan fumbles around in the night table drawer to get some lube, because fuck if he's going to get chafe on his dick because Brendon's overeager. He pops the lid and squirts it on Brendon's hand, since he isn't letting up any. 

Brendon makes a delighted noise at the slick, hand speeding. "Gabe said you call it being in heat," he says, sounding far more coherent than he did before Ryan was naked. "I want, can I," he starts, leaning down to lick up Ryan's cock. He makes a face at the synthetic taste of the lube, but it doesn't stop him from doing it again. 

As soon as Ryan is hard against his stomach and slick all the way, Brendon raises himself up and tries to fuck himself onto Ryan's cock. "Wait, Jesus Christ, you can't just. Fuck," Ryan pushes Brendon off of him, getting him on his back. "You can't do that, you'll tear, Brendon, Christ." 

He picks the bottle back up and uncaps it, slicking up three of his fingers. He's more than average, and Brendon's never done this before, so he needs it. Brendon wriggles on the bedspread, legs thrown out in a wanton spread that makes Ryan pause for a second to compose himself. 

Ryan circles his finger around Brendon's hole, getting him slick, before pushing the first finger in. There's barely any resistance, which surprises him; Brendon's muscles are about as tense they can get without snapping, yet Ryan can push two fingers into him and all Brendon does is gasp and arch his hips. The third finger, at least, gets some resistance and a tiny pained noise, but when Ryan tries to stop to add more slick, Brendon makes a guttural noise and tightens himself to keep Ryan in. The tightness makes Ryan groan. 

"Ryan," Brendon moans, arching up into Ryan's fingers, "Ryan, please. Now." He grabs Ryan's wrist, claws digging into the skin painfully. 

"Fuck, okay, fine." Ryan digs back into the side table for a lone condom—he'll have to go out and get more; it's been so long since he's needed them. He's barely opened the wrapper and Brendon's already impatiently rutting up against his hip, making desperately needy noises at the contact. He makes a slight noise of distress at the condom, but Ryan glares until he looks away. 

Once Ryan's put the condom on and slicked a handful of lube down his cock, Brendon wriggles onto his stomach, presenting his ass. Ryan takes the second Brendon gives him to admire the long line of his back and the curve of his ass. He watches himself sink in, watches the way Brendon stretches tightly around his cock. Brendon's so tight he has to bite his lip to stifle his groan. 

As soon as he pushes in to the hilt, Brendon stills his frantic motions. "Fuck, so tight," he pants, leaning down to press his mouth to the back of Brendon's neck. The move makes him slide in further, if at all possible. Brendon lets out a panting noise when Ryan bites his neck.

"Move, move," he grits out, but it's not in pain. His voice doesn't sound pained; Ryan would pull out in a heartbeat if it sounded anything like pained. 

Biting down again, Ryan shifts his hips back, slamming back in. They both groan and Ryan starts up a steady rhythm, pulling out just enough to let him thrust back as hard as he can. It makes the bed rock and Brendon slides up the sheets with every thrust. Ryan takes one hand off of Brendon's hips and pushes it under him, making Brendon tilt his hips up a little bit so Ryan can wrap his fingers around his cock. 

"Oh, oh, oh," Brendon gasps, a startled keen in the back of his throat. Ryan shifts and pushes back in and he finally rubs Brendon's prostate, sending him scrabbling at the sheets for purchase. Ryan speeds his rhythm up, moving his hand in time with his thrusts. He can feel it when Brendon's about to come; his muscles contract around Ryan's cock and he lets out a high-pitched whine as he comes all over Ryan's hand and the bed sheets. Ryan buries his face in Brendon's hair, unable to keep his rhythm steady, motions faltering as he comes. 

It takes Ryan a few minutes to gather his wits enough to pull out and get rid of the condom. Brendon continues to lie on his stomach, back heaving with the effort it takes to breathe. Ryan lies down on the bed next to him, pushing and prodding until Brendon moves and curls up on his side, face pressed against Ryan's throat. 

Ryan passes out to the sound of Brendon purring like a motor against his skin. 

\---

Waking up is like a slow slide into consciousness; not anything like the usual jolt of being awake his alarm gives him. When Ryan opens his eyes, his clock tells him he has fifteen minutes before it's going to sing its alarm at him. Ryan groans and rubs his hand over his eyes, shifting his hips up into the nice, wet heat around his cock. 

"What the fuck?" he mumbles, looking down into Brendon's eager face. Ryan suddenly realizes how achingly hard he is, thanks to Brendon's clever mouth. "Brendon?" He shifts his hips again, making a soft noise when Brendon swallows him down. 

Brendon doesn't pull back to answer him, just runs the edges of his claws up and down Ryan's thighs, making him shiver. His cheeks hollow as he sucks and Ryan can barely feel the edge of his teeth against him; the way his tongue is just a little more raspy than usual. Brendon finally draws back enough to be able to lick at the head of Ryan's cock, pushing his tongue into the slit and making Ryan's hips buck up frantically. 

"Shit, shit, Brendon, I'm—" Ryan tries to push Brendon away, feeling the heat settle low in his stomach and rush down his hips, but Brendon doesn't budge. He leans further down, until the tip of his nose is pressed against Ryan's pelvic bone, purr rumbling deep in his throat. It's the vibrations that throw Ryan over the edge, hips straining up into Brendon's mouth as he comes. Brendon swallows around him several times, milking Ryan's orgasm. 

He pulls off, after Ryan is completely done, but he doesn't stop. He keeps licking at Ryan's cock, tiny licks that make his hips jerk away. It's too much, too soon and Ryan finally pulls Brendon up, away from his cock. 

It takes a few minutes to get himself under control, to be able to breathe properly again. Brendon stays pressed against his side, still hard, purring ceaselessly, rubbing his nose against Ryan's throat. Every second of silence is another second Ryan has to think about what he's done, and freak out a little. He fucked his cat. Twice, now. No, Brendon wasn't actually still a cat, but he was, and he still is, inside, and what the fuck. Does that mean he participated in an act of bestiality? That's fucking illegal, and Ryan is too pretty to go to jail. 

"Hmm, you're tense," Brendon says lazily, rubbing his thumb across Ryan's collarbones. "Do you need…?" he starts, hand going down Ryan's chest to the top of his stomach. 

"No, no, don't," Ryan says quickly, pushing Brendon's hand away and reaching out to turn his alarm off. "I have to go to work—" 

"Don't!" Brendon shouts, grabbing onto Ryan's hand tight enough to cause pain. "Don't leave me, Ryan," he says, pressing himself fully into Ryan's side. 

"I have to, Brendon," Ryan says, insistent. He tries to pry Brendon off of his side. "If I don't go in, I'll get fired, and then I'll lose my house." He knows he's rambling a little, but Brendon is trying to fight him, and Ryan needs to leave the house. 

Brendon flops onto his back and Ryan stands over him, looking down at him with slightly too wide eyes. He crosses his arms and looks away, face scrunched up in a pout. "Fine, go. I'll call Jon. He likes me enough to stay with me." When Ryan makes a choked noise, Brendon looks at him with the full force of his pout. "Don't worry, we'll stay in the guest room." 

It's so shocking that all Ryan can do is stare down at Brendon incredulously, mouth hanging open just the tiniest bit. "You…Are you fucking kidding me?" he asks, and Brendon shrugs. "You wouldn't call Jon, would you?" Even Ryan can hear the note of desperation in his voice when he asks. 

"Of course I would," Brendon says, frowning. "If you can't take care of me, Jon can." 

Ryan gapes down at Brendon, but Brendon stares at his claws, picking at them. "Fuck that," he says, fiercely, getting Brendon's attention. 

"Don't you have to go to work, Ryan?" he asks. 

"You're a fucking bitch," Ryan says, getting back onto the bed and pinning Brendon down onto it, straddling his hips. 

Brendon starts to purr again as soon as Ryan's on him. "You're not leaving, then?" he asks, purr making his voice sultry. Ryan wonders how this is his life. 

"Shut the fuck up," he mumbles, reaching for his phone to dial the university to tell them he's taking a week of sick leave. His TA can handle the classes while he's gone. Brendon stares up at him with a tiny little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. 

\---

Ryan stares up at the ceiling, chest heaving. It's getting harder to catch his breath between rounds, now. Three days, and Ryan's pretty sure he's either going to die of dehydration or from lack of sleep. Brendon is at his side, back going up and down quickly as he breathes and Ryan runs one hand down the expanse of skin, watching idly as Brendon arches and rubs into the touch. Ryan's hoping he'll pass out soon, so Ryan can go get something to eat and maybe go piss. Return the phone calls he's had to miss because Brendon won't let him answer his cell. 

He knows Spencer can't be too worried, because he hasn't shown up at the house, breaking the door down, yet. It's not like Spencer has a problem doing that, either, so he's not just trying to be polite. Ryan isn't sure if he should be thankful for it or not. 

When Ryan looks over at him, Brendon is sleeping lightly, mouth open just the slightest bit. His cheeks are still flushed from the last time he came, and Ryan feels both a shiver of desire and a shock of affection at the easy sprawl of his limbs. Ryan frowns and looks away. The only affection he has towards Brendon is the affection of an owner and his pet—which he desperately doesn't try to think about. He doesn't like Brendon in that way, he just lusts after him. Which isn't his fault. He doesn't know anyone who could keep from throwing Brendon down and sliding in when he acts the way he does. 

"Hungry," Brendon murmurs, drawing Ryan's attention back. He's looking at Ryan through one half-lidded eye. "Food?" he asks hopefully. Ryan hopes these last few days haven't gotten rid of Brendon's whole vocabulary. 

"Yeah, sure. C'mon, get up," Ryan says. He pretends to ignore the way his eyes sweep across Brendon's back as Brendon stretches languidly. He's not even fooling himself, now. 

\---

"Oh, God, fuck. Condom, where's the condom?" Ryan pants, staring up at Brendon with wide eyes as Brendon finger-fucks himself. Two more days and severe exhaustion on Ryan's part have taught Brendon a few more tricks to add to his arsenal. 

Brendon keens and twists his fingers into himself, hips shifting into the motion. "Haven't been any for a while. Get slick, please," he begs nicely, eyes clenched shut. 

"What, ah, what?" Ryan asks, pausing mid stroke to his own cock. "What do you mean?" he asks, hands going to Brendon's hips to still him. 

Making an unhappy noise, Brendon opens his eyes, pupils blow. "You ran out a few days ago? Why? You haven't cared so far, have you?" 

Ryan curses and tries to think back for a few days, trying to remember not using a condom. All he can remember is slick, tight, wet heat, Brendon's mouth and noises and getting off, more than he ever thought possible. Nothing's distinct; everything's blurred together with pleasure. "Fuck, are you serious?" he asks, batting away the hand Brendon tries to wrap around him. 

Brendon tilts his head, brows furrowed. "Yes. Can you please get in me? My fingers aren't enough." He finally gets a hand around Ryan's cock and slicks him up with the extra lube from his own fingers. Ryan groans, throwing his head back. Brendon doesn't wait for an answer before he straddles Ryan's hips and hovers over his cock, lining him up. He slides down, enveloping Ryan in such tight heat that he can't help but moan and thrust up. Brendon makes a soft keening noise as he lifts his hips and slams back down onto Ryan's lap. 

"Oh, oh, God," Ryan says, eyes shut from it all. He feels dizzy and his stomach is cramping, but he can't get enough of Brendon, tight around him. 

"Ahh." Brendon slides himself all the way back, sitting secure in Ryan's lap, and rolls his hips in a circle before drawing off again. Every time Ryan is in him fully, he circles his hips, making Ryan curse and thrust up. Brendon leans down, hands on Ryan's chest, and licks Ryan's neck. The move makes Ryan slide up into him more and it's so tight that Ryan almost misses the rush of heat in his hips before he's coming, thrusting up into Brendon sloppily. Brendon purrs happily and squeezes once, twice before coming between them without being touched. 

"Fuck," Ryan says, still inside Brendon. He feels filthy, from head to toe. He's not sure when the last time he took a shower was, let alone the last time he wore actual clothing. Brendon is still on top of him, purring loudly as he breathes deeply. "You gotta move, Brendon," Ryan says, voice cracking. Fuck, when was the last time he had something to drink? 

Shaking his head, Brendon says, "Uh-uh. Like where I am." His voice doesn't sound strained and exhausted, and Ryan has no idea why. He should be just as tired. 

"C'mon, I need to pee. Get up." Ryan pushes at Brendon's chest, squirming. It makes his too sensitive cock slip into Brendon, which makes him clench and makes Ryan groan unhappily. 

"Fine." Brendon finally rolls off, breath hitching when Ryan slides out of him with an obscene pop. He curls in on himself, purring and breathing steadily. Ryan pats his side once before getting up and going to the bathroom to piss and clean himself off. His legs are wobbly and he has to steady himself with the sink beside the toilet as he goes. 

Figuring Brendon can wait, Ryan goes into the shower and turns it on as hot as he can stand it. Steam rises within minutes. Ryan leans against the back wall, sliding down so that he's sitting on the tub floor. He's not sure his legs could hold him up for a whole shower. It feels nice to just sit down and let the water work the soreness out of his muscles for a while.

As soon as he can stand it, Ryan pulls his knees up to his chest and sighs, relaxing into the warm water, finally. It's the first time in basically a week he hasn't been tense from sex. He'll have to bring a washcloth out for Brendon after he's clean. 

Ryan loves sex like any other guy, but he prays to whoever's listening that Brendon gets enough, soon. Either that, or Ryan's going to need an I.V. bag to get him through this. He leans his head back against the still-cool tile and sighs. 

\---

"Ryan. Ryan, get up. You gotta go to work. Ryaaan…" 

Ryan frowns and bats the hair tickling his cheek away from his face. "Nnrgh," he says unintelligibly, turning to bury his face in the pillow. He's only been in bed for a few hours, at most, and he's still exhausted. 

"No, really. You need to go in and earn money and grade papers and crush dreams. Come on, Ry. Get up, please." 

Snorting, Ryan flails out in the direction of Brendon. "Dun wanna," he grumbles, trying to pull the covers higher to cover his head. 

Brendon giggles and presses a soft kiss to the top of Ryan's head. "C'mon, Ryan. Breakfast is on the table. Get cleaned and I'll set your clothes out." The movements of the bed alert Ryan to the fact that Brendon's off of it, and Ryan opens one eye, looking at the alarm clock blearily. 

He has enough time for a shower, so he slinks out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom, cranking up the heat in the shower to try to wake himself up. It'll dry funny and curl around his ears if he does it, but Ryan goes ahead and washes his hair quickly, not wanting to go in with greasy hair. He'd rather have curls than Spencer making fun of him. 

There is a decent work outfit on the bed when Ryan gets back to the bedroom, toweling his hair dry as well as he can. The vest doesn't go with the pants, but Ryan doesn't mind; Brendon tried. He puts everything on—including a pair of boxers that Brendon forgot—and heads out to the kitchen. 

He realizes that there's the smell of honest to God food the same moment he sees a plate of it on the table in his spot. Brendon is curled up across from it in his own seat, beaming up at him happily and chewing messily on a muffin. There's another on the plate. Blueberry, Ryan's favourite. 

"You made this?" Ryan asks, sitting down and digging into the eggs. He takes up the toast and scrapes eggs onto it as he chews, suddenly starving. 

"Mmhm," Brendon says happily, pushing the cup of coffee Ryan's way. Ryan nods his thanks and takes gulps between bites. "I thought you'd be hungry when you woke up," he explains, finishing his muffin and wiping his hands on a napkin. 

"It's good," Ryan says, mouth still full. Brendon smiles at him shyly and traces a pattern onto the table top. Ryan remembers Brendon demanding Ryan teach him how to make breakfast foods, but he hadn't ever made any after that day. Ryan thought he just forgot or something. Apparently not. 

As soon as Ryan's done with his second helping of eggs, he pushes his plate to the center of the table, patting his belly happily. He can't remember the last time he ate so much so early in the day. 

"Your briefcase is by the door," Brendon says happily, picking up the plate and putting it with the other dirty dishes in the sink. He runs the water and picks up the sponge and Ryan can't help but smile at him. 

"Thank you, Bren," he says, following Brendon to the skin and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I'll see you later." 

"Oh, wait!" Brendon says, putting the sponge down and going into the fridge. He brings back a can of RedBull and hands it to Ryan with another shy smile. "Gabe says it helps keep people awake," he explains, picking the sponge back up when Ryan takes the can. 

Ryan smiles and ducks his head, going to the living room to pick up his satchel, and heading out to work for the first time in a week. He doesn't think of the way Brendon is still humming at the sink, cleaning up happily.

\---

At lunch, Ryan's telling Spencer about some stupid cute thing Brendon was doing a few days ago, when he realizes it. He stops mid-sentence, mouth still hanging open. Spencer pauses, burger halfway to his mouth and makes a face at him. 

"What?" 

Ryan looks at him, eyes wide. "Holy shit, Spencer. I…fuck, I like him. Like, I like him like him. I might even love him!" he says, waving his hands around frantically. No way, no way. He's not supposed to love his cat. That's wrong! What the hell is wrong with him! 

Spencer snorts and takes a bite of his burger, chewing slowly as he watches Ryan have a tiny panic attack. He swallows and picks up a fry, waving it at Ryan. "No shit, dude." 

"What?" Ryan squawks, fingers gripping the tabletop tightly as he leans forward. 

"Yeah, um, I guess you haven't fucking noticed, but you don't shut up about him. Like, ever. Why are you surprised?" Spencer asks, eating a handful of fries at the same time, the heathen. Ryan ignores his best friend's disgusting eating habits in favor of staring at him until he clarifies. Spencer rolls his eyes. "I mean, not that I'm surprised, because when the hell do you pay attention to anything that's not outside your own head? It's a wonder you get anything done, Ross. You've been half in love with him since he was the fucking cat." He finishes with a long slurp of his drink. 

Ryan sits back, shocked to his core. Has he really been so oblivious to his own feelings? How could he have known? "But…But he's a cat, Spence. That's wrong. That's wrong." 

He gets the patented Spencer Smith bitchface in reply. "Well he's not one now, is he?" Spencer asks, rolling his eyes again. Ryan vaguely imagines them getting stuck like that, and it makes his shoulders fall away from his ears. "And, from what I can tell, he's not going to be turning back into one, anytime soon. So get the fuck over yourself and just go for it already." He grimaces and looks down at his food. "God, I can't believe I'm giving relationship advice to you. This is so embarrassing…" 

"Oh," Ryan says, feeling sort of stupid. He looks down at his food but he doesn't really feel hungry anymore. "You're okay with it?" he asks finally, glancing at Spencer from behind his bangs. 

Spencer gives him a fond, exasperated look. "Sure. As long as you're happy, I don't really care. I mean, I would care if he was still a cat, but since he's a consenting adult-ish person that makes you happy, I'm happy." Spencer eyes his tray. "Now give me your fries." 

"Okay." Ryan hands them over, a bit dazed. Well damn. 

\---

Ryan basically spent the rest of the day in a daze, not even delivering any cutting remarks to any of his students after lunch. He knows they're wary of his not-shitty mood, but he doesn't care. They should learn to be on edge around him. 

When he gets home, Brendon is in the living room, watching Animal Planet on the television. He's fascinated, face only a few inches away from the screen, mouth open a little bit. It makes Ryan snort a little bit and Brendon turns to look at him, grin splitting his face. "Ryan!"

Smiling, Ryan puts his satchel down and puts his coat on the rack. "Hey, Bren. What're you watching?" he asks, going over to sit on the couch in front of the T.V. 

Brendon knee-walks across the floor and climbs up next to Ryan, settling in his lap. Ryan obligingly starts to pet his hair. "Eukanuba tournament of champions," he says, purr starting up. "When they go to the parts with the dogs, it's funny to hear what they really have to say about their owners. The chow-chows are really disgruntled," he explains, laughing. 

Taking a breath in, Ryan looks down at the back of Brendon's head. "Hey, Bren? Can I ask you a question?" Brendon hums and Ryan takes that as an affirmative. "You don't still think of me as your owner, do you?" he asks, tugging on Brendon's hair lightly. 

"Huh?" Brendon turns his head so that he's staring at Ryan instead of the television. "No, of course I don't. People aren't owned, anymore. Jon told me there was a law and everything about it. And since I'm a people, nobody can own me, either." He grins, proud of himself for remembering the lesson, no doubt. 

Ryan nods. "That's right, Brendon. I'm glad you know that." He's quiet for long enough that Brendon turns back to watch the television. "You should also know that I love you, okay? I want you to know that." 

Brendon turns his head again and blinks up at Ryan for a few seconds before smiling. "Yeah, I know that," he says softly. He licks his lips and glances away for a split second before looking back. "I love you, too." 

"Really?" Ryan asks, sort of surprised. 

He's obviously been spending too much time with Spencer, because Brendon rolls his eyes. "Really," he says, voice firm. "You didn't know already?" 

"Uh-uh," Ryan shakes his head. 

"Why else would I want to have kittens with you?" Brendon asks, sounding actually curious. He moves his body so that it's easier for him to look up at Ryan. 

Ryan shrugs, scratching his nose. "I didn't know you wanted to, actually," he says, making Brendon roll his eyes again. 

"That's why I had so much sex with you, stupid. I wanted kittens with you. If I didn't, I could have opened the door before you came home and let Pete or Jon in." He plays with the edges of Ryan's vest, scraping the threads carefully with his claws. If Ryan didn't know any better, he'd say he looked bashful. 

"Oh, um. I didn't know anyone came over." Brendon nods and Ryan looks down at his stomach, a little nervous. "You, ah, you aren't actually pregnant, are you?" he asks, because with everything else that's happened already, he honestly wouldn't be surprised. 

Brendon's expression turns sort of sad, sort of wistful, and he shakes his head. "No. I…didn't think I would be, but I had to try. Because I wanted them to be yours," he says, looking up at Ryan with wide eyes. 

Ryan feels something twist in his stomach at the words, at Brendon's expression. "Oh." Brendon smiles a tiny smile and reaches up to bring Ryan's head closer to his for a kiss. Ryan figures he can do that, at least. 

\---

Ryan isn't exactly sure if this is the best idea in the world, but at least it's a shot. He's not usually one for grand gestures, but Brendon makes him want to give them. He tries not to really think about that as he's opening the door to the house, cardboard box carefully balanced in his arms. It's quiet, which is good, since he doesn't really want to ruin the surprise, yet. 

As soon as he's got the door shut again, Brendon is poking his head around the corner, sniffing the air in interest. "Where were you?" he asks, still sniffing. "You smell…weird." He comes into the room, but stands a few feet away, eyeing the box curiously. 

"I got you something," Ryan says softly, gesturing Brendon to come closer. 

"Is it like my bear?" Brendon asks, edging steadily closer. Ryan still thinks it's sort of cute the way Brendon sleeps with that bear tucked into his arms at night. 

Ryan puts a hand to the top of the box and lifts the flap slightly. "Sort of. Why don't you come look in and see?" 

Brendon sniffs again and gets on his knees so he can see into the box better. As soon as he's there, Ryan opens it all the way and tiny little mewls hit the air. Brendon sucks in a breath, eyes widening. "Oh my God…Oh my God, Ryan, you got me kittens," he whispers, voice reverent. 

"Go ahead," Ryan says softly. "The director at the shelter said they're old enough to be handled. Just be gentle." He almost laughs at himself when he says that—of course Brendon knows and he'll be careful. He's the one who really knows what he's doing. 

The mewling gets louder as Brendon reaches into the box and pulls out four tiny kittens. They crawl all over his arms and lap when he puts them there. They're old enough to have their eyes open and seeing, ears up and hearing. The director at the shelter said they still had their milk teeth, but Brendon doesn't say anything when the orange one starts to suckle at his thumb. 

"Is it what you hoped it would be?" Ryan asks, setting the box aside and moving so that he's pressed up against Brendon's side. One of the black kittens, the one with the white mouth, stumbles over its siblings to land on Ryan's lap in a tiny pile. It starts to mewl up at him immediately and Ryan cups it in his hands, petting its ears softly. 

Closing his eyes, Brendon leans his head against Ryan's shoulder. "Exactly. It's perfect, Ryan," he says, smiling as his kittens crawl over him to get at their sibling on Ryan's lap. He holds them close to himself and smiles, and Ryan kisses the tear off his cheek while the kittens start to purr and knead at their laps. 

\---

"Patrick, you put that kitten down, right now! You're not allowed to eat those!" Pete shouts, standing with his legs apart, arms akimbo. He's standing in front of Patrick, who's got Argyle dangling from his mouth by the scruff of his neck. The tabby kitten squeaks and Brendon lifts his head from Ryan's lap. Ryan pets Curtains when he makes an annoyed noise at being disturbed by Brendon's moving lap. 

"Argyle says that Patrick said he took too long to get anywhere, so he's carrying him to the backyard so they can have their lessons," Brendon translates, closing his eyes and resting his head again while Ryan resumes running his fingers through his hair and reading. 

Pete looks at Brendon skeptically then back at Patrick, who's staring at him, kitten still dangling from his mouth. "Okay, fine. But if he doesn't turn back up, you're gonna be in trouble." Patrick turns and continues to carry Argyle to the kitty door in the back door, tail in the air. Pete ignores Brendon's giggle at whatever Patrick said with the tail flick. 

"You gotta stop being all over that cat," Spencer says, not looking up from his magazine, or from the kitten currently purring their little heart out in his lap. 

Ryan rolls his eyes and sets his book down, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction. "Like you should talk, Smith. I don't think you've let SpencerSmith out of your sight once since you got here." 

Spencer glares at him. "That's completely different," he says, huffing. "Pete's cat doesn't even like him. SpencerSmith loves me. Don't you, honey?" he asks, voice going a lower pitch as he rubs her stomach. Her purring gets louder and Brendon doesn't have to translate for everyone to know the obvious answer. 

The snort from the other couch makes Spencer turn and glare at Jon, but Jon just waves his hands, face innocent. "What? I didn't say anything." Periwinkle jumps after them, since there's still a piece of string attached to his index finger that he was using to play with Periwinkle seconds earlier. Jon smiles and lowers his hand to trail the string across the floor for the kitten to chase. He looks up at Brendon and Ryan as Periwinkle catches the string and starts to gnaw on it.

"Hey, did you like the picture, by the way?" he asks, letting Periwinkle tug his finger around. 

Ryan looks at the mantel above the fireplace and smiles softly to himself, threading his fingers through Brendon's hair and scratching his scalp in the way he knows Brendon loves most. The picture is in a simple white frame, and it's between pictures of all of Ryan's family, feline and human. He nods, not looking away. "Yeah," he says. "I love it."

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was taken off the [ Big God Damn Masterlist](https://fobfics.tumblr.com/post/34177428707/okubyokitsunes-big-goddamn-masterlistpdf/) you can use that link to download the pdf of almost 500 pages of bandom fic.


End file.
